


Over The Edge

by DerekHaleGirl97



Series: Sterek One-Shots [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Murder, Attempted Seduction, Attempted Sexual Assault, Darkness Around The Heart, Hallucinations, Horror, Hurt Stiles, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Minor Lydia Martin/Jordan Parrish, Sirens, Songfic, Stiles-centric, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Werewolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerekHaleGirl97/pseuds/DerekHaleGirl97
Summary: Stiles watched in horror, but when he looks down at his chest, there is no hole there, no blood, nothing. He looks at her in confusion only to have his eyes trail down to the heart. His heart.It was all black, a stark contrast against Amara’s pale skin. There were some spots where it was red, but it hardly gave much comfort knowing that was his heart she was holding, all black and beating like the one pumping in his chest. Amara smiles in amusement at his shocked and horrified expression.“See? I told you your heart was dark,” she says gleefully.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another Songfic. Yay. 
> 
> This was inspired by the song: Dream by Imagine Dragons.  
> and the general idea was inspired by a Tumblr post I saw today that went perfectly with the song. The link will be added below because I have no idea how to add it here. Oh well.  
> also, there is a link to a super creepy video that inspired a part of the fic. (Warning: Headphone users beware! This will definitely hurt your ears!)
> 
> I also made some references to a couple other TV shows, though I know you'll figure out from where. XD
> 
> Let me know what you guys think!
> 
> -Love, Jo'E.

(Inspired by [this post](http://maybehonestly.tumblr.com/post/125530755300/stiles-is-worried-that-he-may-have-frontotemporal))

               Stiles would like to think things have wind down since the Dread Doctors and the Beast of Gevaudan were stopped, but things are never really that easy were they?

                It began a month after the Beast was killed again and Theo was taken to hell, or whatever afterlife Kira dragged him to. Everything was semi-normal, taking in the account that the police were still looking for the Beast despite the reassurance of Stiles’ Dad, the Sheriff, that the monster was long gone thanks to Scott and Liam. So, things around Beacon have been a little off for some time, which unsettles Stiles in the worst way.

                It was like an itch he needed to scratch, but no matter now calm things seem, it only made Stiles more nervous. Like the calm before the storm.

                Scott thought he was overreacting a little because of the previous events, but Stiles assured him it was something else. Stiles really wanted to be at ease, but the years of dealing with the supernatural have made him more sensitive to everything that just seemed… wrong. Take Theo for example.

                No, Stiles knew something was going to happen. He could feel it in his bones. It was like there were warning signals going off in his head, sometimes keeping him up at night way more often than usual. Like, there was this voice in his head, telling him to be wary of the day ahead, to keep looking over his shoulder, to keep the bat close in hand. Just in case.

                When something did happen, Stiles could only wish that he could say he was right all along. That his instincts were somehow far superior to Scott’s Alpha powers to detect something that should have been sensitive to him. It didn’t really matter anyways, because once they found out that the new baddie in town was a siren, Stiles knew they were all fucked. The guys mostly.

                With some research, Stiles learned that sirens aren’t actually water-based creatures (which leaves out some water deprivation traps out of the picture). They were more like demons than mermaids, using their captivating voices to force men to do as they please. Lydia and Malia were immune to their song, while every other guy in the pack could still be subjected to the Siren. Luckily they had a lead that took them to the hospital.

                None of them really knew why the Siren would be drawn to a place like the Memorial Hospital, but both Stiles and Lydia can agree that it could be because Sirens are just as attracted to death as Banshees and Hellhounds are. Thus, they decided to search the entire building, from top to bottom.

                With the possibility of one of the guys being entranced by the siren, the pack splits in two: Scott and Liam go with Malia to the basement, Stiles and Parrish go with Lydia to the top floors. Stiles wouldn’t have minded, really. Long since over with his crush on Lydia and all, but they could be courteous enough to not try and make out in front of him every damn second like a couple of horny teenagers. (Oh, god. Now he sounds like his Dad).

                “Can you guys just quit it for like, two seconds?” Stiles says in annoyance, but his words fly right over Lydia and Parrish’s head as they give each other yet another peck on the lips. He just hates how they could be a cute and stuff while they’re in the middle of a serious situation.

                “Sorry,” Parrish says sheepishly, not really paying attention to him as he keeps his eyes on Lydia. “We’ll focus more.”

                “Right,” Stiles scoffs at them in irritation. Not really believing them. Ever since their romance became a thing a couple of weeks ago after they resolved some UST, they just became the definition of a fluffy couple. You could say that Stiles was jealous, but he honestly wasn’t. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t be since they, you know, were in a dire situation that required their full attention. Like, literal life and death kind of thing if they weren’t too careful.

                They continued on searching, but there was no sign of the Siren. Only eerily spooky dark halls and cold drafts that came from the air conditioning system above them. They were on the less populated floors because not many people usually got injured during non-supernatural events, so it made sense that the only time the hospital would be flooded is if people were dying or injured because of the current baddie in town. Stiles would say he was surprised, but it’s Beacon Hills after all. Thus, leaving them room to explore in their search for the Siren.

                If only they knew what it looked like, maybe it would make their search that much easier.

                They’re only going off on assumptions at this point because they have no idea what the Siren looks like. According to the research Stiles did, Sirens are known to be shapeshifters, taking any form depending on their desires, which makes attracting their victims easier. The Siren could be anyone, or anything (yeah, some men are just weird like that), so their best bet is to go by their wolf senses. Or, in Stiles’ case, by a Banshee and Hellhound’s senses.

                So far, nothing has turned up.

                “There’s nothing here,” Lydia states as they reach the last empty room on the floor. “I’m not getting anything.”

                “Me either,” Parrish agrees, turning his flashlight this way and that. “Let’s check out one more floor before going back to the others.”

                “Sounds like a plan,” Stiles adds, then follows Lydia and Parrish towards the elevators. They get back to the hall where the elevator is, Parrish, hitting the down button as the trio gets ready to descend another floor. That’s when Stiles begins to hear something in his ear.

                ([video of creepy noise](https://youtu.be/EaO6Ktir67g))

                He whips his head to the direction of the sound, looking down at a dark hallway that they searched earlier. The noise sounded like an old radio playing classical music, which came from the last room down the hall. Stiles frowns at this, knowing full well that they had checked that room and didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. Then again, they could have missed something. He knew he needed to be sure.

                Without telling the others, Stiles swiftly walked down the hallway where the noise was coming from. The closer he got, the more define the music became, and it sounded a lot like classical music, but with a grainy hiss to it. Once he reaches the room, he yanks the door open, peering into the darkened room to find an old radio sitting on the hospital bed. This causes Stiles’ pulse to rise because the last time they checked, the radio wasn’t there before.

                It was on, blasting the classical music on full setting, making it pulse into Stiles’ ears. Taking a deep breath, Stiles inches closer to the radio, moving to shut it off and get the hell out of there because despite having faced supernatural creatures time and time again, Stiles was not going to allow himself to become a horror movie victim. Nope. _Nope_.

                Just as his fingers brushed the dial to switch off the radio, this harsh buzzing sound crackled in the speakers. It was so loud that Stiles had to flinch back and cover his ears (thanks Lydia for busting his eardrums by the way). Stiles staggers back, watching the radio in surprise once the buzzing stopped and turned into what sounded like someone was breathing into the speakers. Stiles’ hands suddenly feel clammy as he watches in frozen terror. The radio continues to make these static breathing sounds for a minute or two, the classical music could still be heard in the background. This went on for another minute before he could hear someone speaking in the speakers. It began as a soft whisper that crescendos into some women chanting out names and dates his terror filled mind couldn’t comprehend.

                The women in the speaker continue to chant while Stiles’ brain tries to make his body move. It was like he was frozen with fear, his body unwilling to get itself out of the obvious danger he was now in. Stiles thinks this had to be the work of the Siren, trying to scare him away or draw him in. He would say the latter because he was definitely terrified.

                The chanting seemed to turn into whispers at this point, but one voice kept chanting one name and one date.

                _Stiles Stilinski, 2016_

                If Stiles was terrified before, then it would be safe to say that now he was horrified. His blood ran cold and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. Without much hesitation, Stiles made a dash out of the room, not looking back as his sneakers squeaked on the tile floor as he ran. His heart was pounding in between his ears, his breath erratic and uneven. He didn’t know what the hell that was back there, but all he knew was that he needed to _get_ _the fuck out_. **_NOW_**.

                He makes it to the elevator doors, not noticing that Lydia and Parrish were no longer there. His finger rapidly presses hard on the button, hearing it ding multiple times as he mumbles to himself, eyes wide in fear and face pale as snow.

                “Come on, come on, come on!”

                It seemed like the elevator took forever to get back to his floor and Stiles doesn’t stop himself from checking over his shoulder for any sign of the Siren. Much to his horror, the hall was now lit up with the familiar fluorescent light, but it flickered in tune with the sound that somehow became louder from the radio. At the end of the hall, there was a girl was long black hair, similar to the girl in the Ring, but she looked grubby and dirty from where Stiles could see. She looked at him with milky blue eyes, staring right into his own as the lights kept flickering. Stiles felt like she was staring into his very soul, and it freaked him out even more.

                The lights flickered again, this time prolonging the darkness until it came on again and the girl was ten feet closer to Stiles than she had been before. Stiles felt his heart jump in surprise, now sending adrenalin into him once he realizes that he was her target now. This prompted Stiles to press the button more feverishly, begging the doors to open now. The lights continued to flicker, each blackout bringing the girl closer and closer to him like if she was some weeping angel from Doctor Who.

                Finally, the doors opened and Stiles literally threw himself inside, hitting the button to close the doors quicker with the same rapid speed he gave the other button. When the doors close, the girl had made it just outside the elevator, giving him a satisfied grin before they finally shut.

                Once the elevator finally moves, Stiles lets out a sigh of relief. Pressing his hands against the silver doors as he leans against it, putting his head down and closing his eyes while he takes a moment to calm down his heart. As soon as he feels that he could breathe again, he lifts his head and looks into the reflection of the doors.

                He freezes once he sees a blurred figure of someone standing behind him. Stiles slowly moves his head to look over his shoulder, afraid that the figure was the Siren. Once he catches a glimpse of the person behind him, Stiles’ breath catches in his throat. The person standing there was none other than Derek Hale, standing perfectly still against the wooden walls of the elevator.

                “Derek?” Stiles whispers both surprised and shocked to see him there. The last time Stiles had seen Derek was almost a year ago when he left Beacon Hills after what happened in Mexico. Stiles honestly thought Derek had left for good this time, remembering the words Derek told Scott back then that he was leaving the pack and going to join Cora in South America. Stiles knew he was never going to see him again, he really did wish he didn’t because Derek has had enough with this town and Stiles didn’t blame him. It made him sad that he left, having missed the brooding werewolf the past year to the point where he could only talk to him in his imagination.

                However, with him being here, Stiles was now beginning to think he had lost his mind. Derek shouldn’t be here. He should be safe and happy, not dragged back into this town of horror.

                “Derek?” Stiles calls again, but Derek doesn’t respond to him. He just looks straight forward, not noticing Stiles being there at all. The elevator stops with a jolt. Doors open and Derek silently steps out, not even acknowledging Stiles on his way out. He follows him out, more out of shock than curiosity as Derek leads them to the roof of the hospital. Huh, Stiles could have sworn he hit the button to go gown.

                Derek stops just a few feet from the main generator, pausing in his steps which caused Stiles to stop too. Stiles stared at Derek’s back, wondering if what he was seeing was real or an illusion. Right now, his mind felt too foggy from the near heart attack he just had, making him feel a little drowsy than he should be. He tries calling to Derek again, but instead of Derek’s voice, he’s responded by a soft giggle before the werewolf before he shifts into a smaller shape. Broad shoulders became more slanted, his hair grows out into long brown curls, and his height shrinks until he’s about a few inches shorter than Stiles.

                Derek- the girl turns around and gives Stiles a wide and amused smile. She’s beautiful, Stiles admits, with twinkling brown eyes, dimpled cheeks, and a flawless heart-shaped face. If Stiles didn’t know better, he would say that the girl gave off an innocent vibe that just drew Stiles in. All of his senses told him to go to the girl, to feel her soft skin and taste her plump lips. However, he manages to hold himself back, knowing that this was one of her tricks.

                The girl took note of this.

                “You’ve fallen so easily into my trap, yet you still resist me?” She asks, the smile growing wider with curiosity.

                “I may be an idiot sometimes, but I’m not stupid,” Stiles replies, staring at her with resignation in his voice. “What do you want from me anyway?”

                “For someone who speaks highly of their intellect, you don’t really catch on easily, do you?” She says playfully.

                “I know you’ll either kill me or turn me into one of your mindless zombies,” Stiles grumbles out and the girl giggles at him. If he didn’t know she was purely evil, then he would find her laughter cute.

                “Well, I would appreciate the help, really,” the Siren says suggestively as she comes closer to Stiles, running a hand over his bicep and up his shoulders like she was inspecting him or something. “One siren against a pack of wolves? It’s not easy, but it is most certainly not impossible. I think I can handle my own, thanks for the suggestion, though.”

                “So you are going to kill me?” Stiles asks in a surprisingly calm tone. His heart beating against his chest says otherwise.

                “See? You’re not that stupid after all,” she says meritoriously, placing both her hands on his cheeks. “Too bad, though, you are actually really adorable.”

                “Why don’t you just get it over with already?” Stiles retorts, glaring at the Siren as he pushes her away from him. He’s surprised that he actually did move someone who was obviously stronger than him.

                “Don’t you want to know why?” The Siren asks curiously in a cutesy voice.

                “Does it matter?”

                “Well, it does because of what I have planned for you.”

                “What do you mean?” Stiles looks at her dubiously.

                “Think of it as a mandatory introduction, if you will?” The Siren smirks at him playfully. “My name is Amara, and as you already know, I’m a siren.”

                “No, really?” Stiles says sarcastically.

                “Shush, you’ll miss the best part,” The Siren- Amara- places her finger over Stiles’ lips. She runs the tip over his soft lips gently, making Stiles flinch away from her. “I’m a siren, but not like what you hear in myths and legends. You have your Banshees, the messengers of Death. Hellhounds, the one who guard the dead. And me, the one who collects the wicked, darkest of souls from the bunch.”

                “What does that have to do with me?”

                “Don’t you get it by now, Stiles? I’m looking for the darkest of souls, the ones who have more blood on their hands, the murderers, the wicked. The evilest.”

                “Me?” Stiles asks, feeling his heart climb up to his throat.

                “Exactly,” Amara smiles wide at him.

                “I haven’t done anything wrong,” Stiles protests.

                “Oh, you have, Stiles.” Amara purrs, leaning in closer to his face. “You have more blood on your hands than you think.”

                “Those were accidents,” Stiles defends himself.

                “Most of them were on _purpose_ ,” Amara counters. “Only _one_ was an accident.”

                “I was possessed,” Stiles barks, narrowing his eyes at her. “The Nogitsune made me do those things, I wasn’t even aware of what was going on!”

                “Only Nogitsunes pick the darkest of hearts, Stiles,” Amara argues, moving towards Stiles until he was backed up against the wall. “And your heart is as black as they come.”

                “I don’t believe you.”

                “Well, you’ve given me no choice,” Amara huffs, then her hand digs into Stiles’ chest, making him cry out in pain as he feels her fingers wrap around his heart. She yanks her hand back out, carrying what looked like a beating heart in her hands. Stiles watched in horror, but when he looks down at his chest, there is no hole there, no blood, nothing. He looks at her in confusion only to have his eyes trail down to the heart. _His_ heart.

                It was all black, a stark contrast against Amara’s pale skin. There were some spots where it was red, but it hardly gave much comfort knowing that was _his_ _heart_ she was holding, all black and beating like the one pumping in his chest. Amara smiles in amusement at his shocked and horrified expression.

                “See? I told you your heart was dark,” she says gleefully.

                Stiles doesn’t speak, too shocked to really process what was going on right in front of him.

                “That’s why you singled me out,” Stiles breathes, astonished.

                “It’s part of the job description,” Amara smiles at him. “Not only is this the physical representation of your heart, it also allows me to do with you as I please.”

                “I guess that’s where the ‘siren’ part comes in,” Stiles says disdainfully and Amara nods.

                “And since I have plenty of time on my hands, I want to play with you for a while before I send you to Hell.”

                “It’s not just me you’re after,” Stiles realizes.

                “Beacon Hills is surrounded by death, it’s like a buffet for people like me,” Amara smiles wickedly. “Plus, there’s a True Alpha running around here somewhere and I plan to turn his pure little heart into the blackest heart the Boss will ever see. He’ll be so impressed that maybe he’ll promote me to Left Hand.”

                “Your plan won’t work,” Stiles grits out, feeling the need to defend his best friend. “Scott’s the True Alpha for a reason.”

                “Not for long once I’m through with him,” Amara squeezes Stiles’ heart, making him gasp in pain. “And he’ll know he’s going to be next once I play with his best friend like a toy.”

                “I am not going to be a siren’s chew toy,” Stiles glares at Amara, but she only laughs at his attempt to be threatening.

                “As long as I have your heart, you will,” Amara sing-songs, then brings Stiles’ heart to her lips. “I want you to kiss me, Stiles.”

                Like a switch, Stiles’ body becomes a body of its own, making him stand before Amara while she smiles wide at him, then his hands bring her close and his lips are pressed against hers without his mind even processing what is going on. Amara moans against his mouth, grabbing the strings of his hoodie and pulling him down to deepen the kiss.

                Stiles is horrified about what he is doing. He tries to tell his body to pull away, to push her off him, but it won’t listen. He has no control whatsoever, and now he knows that it was Amara doing this to him. She wasn’t kidding when she said she could make him do whatever she wants as long as she has his heart.

                Amara pulls back, giving a satisfied sigh before looking back at Stiles.

                “Tell me, Stiles. Your friend, Derek, does he know that you have feelings for him?”

                “No,” Stiles responds, knowing he had no control over what he said to her. His secrets were hers now.

                “Aw,” Amara fake pouts, giving Stiles a faux sympathized look. “How sad. Too bad he won’t ever know you were in love with him. Won’t know that you cared about him more than anything. You two did make a pretty good pair together.”

                Stiles doesn’t reply, she hasn’t commanded him to.

                “Oh well,” She shrugs it off and grips his heart tight in her hands. “I’m going to give you the night you deserve before you have to suffer for eternity. I’ve been told that I’m great in bed.”

                “Don’t. You. _Dare_. Fucking. _Touch_. _Him_!” A new voice roars out, surprising both Amara and Stiles.

                They both glance towards the entrance to the roof to see a pissed off Derek Hale standing there, his nostrils flared and his eyes glowing blue in anger. Instead of worry, Amara’s face grew into one of amusement.

                “Derek Hale,” Amara says, obviously impressed by Derek’s appearance. “My, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you.”

                “Meeting you surely isn’t pleasant,” Derek growls, striding towards them. “Now let him go before I rip your throat out.”

                “I’m not afraid of you,” Amara scoffs at him. “And you should watch yourself, pup. Don’t want me to do something we’ll both regret.” To emphasize her point, she squeezes Stiles’ heart again, making the boy cry out in pain as he falls to his knees. It was like his heart was constricting on itself, and it hurt to breathe.

                “Stop hurting him!” Derek snarls and Amara laughs.

                “He belongs to me now, Derek. Once I see what I want, I take it by the hilt, or in this case, by the heart,” Amara smirks.

                “What do I have to do in order for you to let him go?” Derek demands. Stiles is surprised to see how desperate Derek looks, with his eyes glancing over to him every few seconds.

                “Sorry, Derek, but there is no room for negotiations,” Amara informs him. “Stiles is coming with me, whether you like it or not. He was chosen by me, and I don’t plan on going to the Big Man without delivering what he asks for.”

                “Please,” Derek’s voice sounds so heartbreakingly pleading that Stiles isn’t sure if he’s actually seeing Derek… _begging_ to the siren. It would have warmed Stiles’ heart had it not been for the fact that Amara was holding it in a tight grip. “There’s got to be some way to spare his life.”

                “I wish there was,” Amara says ruefully. “But I really have no choice over the matter, really. My picks are as certain as a Banshee’s scream,” She turns to Stiles, giving him a sad look. “I guess I won’t be giving you that special evening after all. Too bad, though. I _really_ wanted to taste you.”

                Amara pulls Stiles’ heart to her lips again.

                “Walk off the roof,” she commands.

                “No!” Derek shouts out as Stiles gets back to his feet. They begin walking towards the edge of the roof, ignoring Stiles as his mind desperately commands them to stop. Stiles was going to die. He was going to walk over the edge and fall to his death. He was going to Hell. Stiles doesn’t know which fate is worse.

                He hears the fight that breaks out behind him. Derek roars, echoing through the night. Stiles can hear what sounds like scuffling, hissing, snarling, growling, and flesh being torn. He isn’t sure who was winning or losing, but he is sure that the edge is now just underneath his feet and he is one step away from walking off the edge. One step away from death. One step away from Hell.

                “Stiles! Stop!” Derek’s voice pleads, then it’s like his body turns to stone.

He freezes in place, literally one foot out in the open air before he begins to lose his balance. Stiles’ heart jumps to his throat as he feels himself fall over, but a pair of arms wrap around him before he could even plunge to his death. Then, Stiles is being pulled back to the roof and falls with the body onto the hard floor, feeling his body going limp for a second. His heart is ringing in his chest, pulsing blood in between his ears as he looks at his savior.

Derek is laying there with him, breathing just as rapidly as he was and staring at him with wide eyes. In his hands, Derek is holding Stiles’ heart with a soft, yet firm squeeze, engulfing Stiles in a sense of warmth and security. To their right, Amara’s body lays in a pool of her own blood, throat ripped open and spewing with black goo. Stiles lets out a sob of relief and wraps his arms around Derek’s neck. Derek’s arms also wrap around him, pulling him to his chest and huffing out a huge sigh of relief. They hold each other for a long time before Stiles pulls back.

“I thought you were in South America with Cora?” Stiles asked breathlessly. Out of all the questions to ask, Stiles asked Derek why he wasn’t where he said he would be.

“I was,” Derek begins, nodding his head towards Amara’s body. “Scott called me the other day about the siren problem. I assumed he needed help because I knew more about them than Chris. Good thing I did.”

“Yeah,” Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thanks… I really owe you one.”

“No problem,” Derek sighs and stands back up, holding his hand out to Stiles. “She’s gone now, so you don’t have to worry about her.”

“Was she really going to drag me to Hell?” Stiles asks, taking Derek’s hand. He helps Stiles back to his feet before he answers.

“No, that was just her trying to control you. Sirens are known to be big fat liars just so they can get what they want.”

“And my heart...?” He asks warily.

Derek holds up the metal disk with the triskelion on it, giving Stiles a reassuring look. “Another one of her tricks. She was only making you think she had your heart because it makes it easier for her to control you. Sirens use your worst fear against you, that’s what she did to you.”

“So I really don’t have a black heart,” Stiles breathes, mostly to himself than to Derek.

“You never did, Stiles,” Derek tells him, gripping his shoulder in comfort. “Everything that happened to you, all those people, Allison… They weren’t your fault. _You_ didn’t kill anyone.”

“I killed Donovan,” Stiles admits, but Derek’s soft look doesn’t harden.

“In self-defense,” Derek tells him like he wants Stiles to really listen to his words. “Stiles, everything that’s happened was not your fault. You had no hand in doing anything. You’re not wicked. Your heart isn’t black at all. It’s pure, just as pure as Scott’s.”

Stiles still felt doubtful, despite how comforting the words are. With the ordeal he just went through, he’s allowed to doubt himself.

“Are you really here?” Stiles asks, feeling the need to have one last confirmation. To let his heart and head know that this is all real and not some illusion the siren is playing on him to torture him before she kills him. He needs to know.

“For as long as you need me,” Derek promises, pulling Stiles into an embrace.

Stiles slumps against Derek, sighing in relief. That’s all the reassurance he needs. He knows it’ll take him awhile to be okay again. For now, he’s okay with dreaming.


End file.
